A Hard Day's Night
by MissKitty4Adam
Summary: One of the Cartwrights is poisoned, another one searches for the assassin while the other two try to keep the house together. Will the family come out on top once again or will this day just get worse? Will the sun set on two fresh graves or will the family be reunited? Read and find out!


The sun beat down mercilessly, sneering at the lonely figure riding through a parched stretch of California desert. For miles in every direction, not a soul could be seen nor a shred of humanity. Nothing but hot dust and gritty sand. Only shrubgrass, tumbleweed and the occasional cacti tree offered their grim companionship. The road was straight and utterly tedious, its end always faded on the horizon.

The lone rider halted his horse and dismounted. His red shirt was darkened with sweat, rings of salt creating a patchwork on his back. His right hand dipped down to rearrange his sore crotch, an uncomfortable reminder of how many miles he had traveled. He grimaced and leaned back, stretching out his lower back. He removed his hat and beat it against his thigh, sending a dust cloud billowing into the hot air.

Taking a knife from his boot, he walked to a ground cactus patch and crouched down. Slicing a cross into the top, he stuck his fingers into the soft flesh, holding the pod steady so to shave off the spines. Neatly slicing through its thick base, he straightened and tore moist bits off the chewy pad. The sweet, juicy flesh held a tart aftertaste which refreshed the mouth and cut the dust in his throat.

After his thirst had been placated, he fed the last morsels to his horse. The animal's velvety lips smacked and slobbered, drooling over his master's hand. A tired smile on his face, the man tilted his head back and took note of the sun's position. About two in the afternoon. He should be in the Virginia City within an hour or so and home only a couple of hours later.

"Come on, boy, if we speed up, water is just ahead," he said, laboriously pulling himself back into the saddle. "I hope Hop Sing hasn't served supper yet when we get to the ranch. I'm getting powerful hungry. How 'bout you?"

Breaking into a brisk trot, the horse nickered, as if agreeing with the assessment. Within an hour, the landscape was becoming greener and when another passed, Virginia City appeared on the horizon. The sight was a treat for the weary travelers and they hurried onward at a fast canter.

Town turned out to be busy but much quieter than usual for a Friday. Saloons tinkled merrily, women gossiped outside of shops, wagons and buckboards rattled down main street, the school bell tolled, laughing children ran past and all appeared to be as it should be.

Whistling a tuneless song, the lone rider rode down the middle of main street. He could feel eyes on him and chuckled to himself, knowing how terrible he must look after a week riding through the Sierra Nevada range and five days in the desert. He dismounted in front of The Bucket of Blood. After watering his horse, he threw the reins over the hitching post and pushed through the batwing doors.

Only two patrons was present in the establishment, a stranger playing solitaire in a dark corner and the town drunk passed out across a table. With a wry shake of his head, the traveler leaned on the bar and hooked his right boot on the foot rail. When a bartender didn't appear, he rapped his knuckles on the aged wood to alert someone for service.

Within seconds, Vicki, a pretty brunette barmaid came sailing around the back corner and her painted face lit up. "Why hello there, sexy, haven't seen you around here in a long while."

"Hey, Vicki, how have you been?"

"Oh, just fine, I suppose. I missed you, baby. From the look of you, I'd say you need a drink, a bath, a bed, a massage and a woman but not necessarily in that order. You know, Adam, I'm pretty handy with a cloth and a bar of soap."

Adam Cartwright grinned and shook his head, his dimples peeking out. "Behave yourself, you know I'm not that kind of man."

"Yes, I know, and more's the pity. I've been trying to get you upstairs for the past year and I'm about ready to pay you! What I'd do to see what's under those dirty clothes is considerable."

"A very filthy body, I assure you. I have sand in places I didn't know existed. "

She leaned forward, intentionally giving him a luscious view of her cleavage. "Give me an hour and I'll draw you a map."

"Vicki, no."

She sighed dramatically and grabbed a glass mug. "What would you like to drink?"

"A beer and a tall, TALL glass of water."

"Take a seat and I'll be over."

While waiting for his order, Adam pulled a chair out and lowered his aching body into the support. Stretching out his long legs, he let a yawn escape. God, he was tired. All he wanted to do when he got home was eat Hop Sing's scrumptious dinner, take a bath and pass out for a week.

When Vicki sashayed around the bar toward him, he took a moment to appreciate how beautiful she truly was. He found himself wishing that there could be a future relationship there. Her occupation had nothing to do with his reluctance. A woman's past, no matter how soiled, never bothered him. But he enjoyed her company much more if she possessed a softness around the edges, a tenderness which would warm him on cold, winter days. Though her beauty stirred his male blood, Vicki was far too flirtatious to be taken seriously. He couldn't envision her to be content talking over a bowl of hot soup after a long day or to be content holding his hand as their bodies aged.

"Here you are, baby," Vicki winked, setting first the water glass and then the beer mug down in front of him. "Anything else I can get ya?"

"No, thank you, my dear. Sit down and tell me what's been goin' on around here since I left."

Before he could react, she slipped into his lap. "Nothing really in town. Still the same boring, hot, dusty, disgusting place it's always been. I have to say though that things got much more lively as soon as you rode in."

Bemused, he shrugged and gulped the rest of his water. "There's really been nothing at all that happened in the last couple months?"

"Well, there's been a few drifters to come through, a few gunfights and such silly things. Oh, and then there's the incident with your father, of course."

Adam choked and sputtered on a mouthful of beer. "W...what the heck happened to Pa?"

Vicki jumped off his lap, her right hand settling on her throat. "You...you didn't know?"

"No, I haven't been home yet, obviously," Adam snapped. He rose to his full height and looked down on her. "Tell me what happened."

"H...He and your brothers came in five days ago and had a couple beers. I was at the next table when your father fell out of his chair and went into a fit of some sort."

"A fit? What kind of fit?"

"Rolling around, clutching his stomach and even frothing at the mouth. His eyes were rolled back, as if possessed by the devil or something. It was so horrible. Reminded me of seeing my father's dog die from rabies."

Blood rushed in Adam's ears; all air had been sucked from his lungs. He couldn't breathe and couldn't speak. Shakily, he stood and picked up his hat. Striding from the saloon, he leaped onto Sport's back and kicked the gelding back up the street. People stopped and stared, probably wondering what emergency warranted such haste. He couldn't have cared less. His one thought, his one purpose that kept him plunging forward was his father's life. What possibly could have transpired? What horrific and evil hand had transformed his secure world into a prelude to hell?

His heart kept time with Sport's pounding hoofbeats as the miles fell away beneath the pair. Pushing his loyal mount to the absolute limit of endurance, Adam galloped into the Ponderosa yard around two hours later. His fears nearly unbearable, he dismounted at a run but stopped short outside of the front door. Suddenly afraid to know what was going on inside, he quietly turned the knob.

The house was eerily silent. Not the warm, crackling silence while the inhabitants slept nor was this the silence of an empty house. No, this was the somber quiet of a household on the edge of grief. Something was terribly wrong. He glanced back outside and surveyed the barnyard.

Though Buck, Chubb and Cochise were in the corral, there was no sign of their owners. Paul Martin's black buggy sat unhitched by the barn. A very bad sign indeed. Dread filled Adam's core. The reason for the good doctor's visit must have become serious enough for him to stay over at the ranch.

"Is anyone here? Anyone?"

The words were released as almost a whisper. He was desperate to hear a response yet afraid to think of what might be discovered. Without bothering to remove his chaps, hat or gunbelt, he closed the door and started across the great room. Up the stairs and down the hall, he tiptoed, in case foul play was involved. His father's bedroom door was ajar and through the doorway, he could see Paul slumped down in a chair. However, what caught his attention the most was the figure laying in the bed.

Ben Cartwright's chiseled face was white as a sheet and glistening with sweat. His iron-grey hair, carefully combed on most days, was soaked and trailing down his forehead. His mouth was set into a hard grimace, as if even in the throes of unconsciousness he could feel terrible pain. But what agonized Adam the most was how old his father looked. Lines creased Ben's handsome face, adding twenty years to those rugged features.

Reluctant to wake the doctor, Adam finally gave in to his desperation. He placed a hand on the older man's shoulder and gently shook him awake. Paul stirred and blinked owlishly, his face transitioning from fatigue to surprise to extreme relief.

"Adam? Thank the Almighty, you're here at last! We sent several telegrams but we couldn't reach you."

"I'm sorry, I've been riding through the desert for the last week and making camp each night. I haven't been near a town. Paul, what happened here? I was told that Pa collapsed at The Bucket of Blood," Adam said softly, leaning over his ailing father and touching his wrist, "Oh my god, he's so cold."

"Adam...it's a good thing you arrived when you did. He's in a very bad way. I've done all I can for him and now we're waiting to see if he..."

"Survives the night?"

Paul's eyes glistened in the lamplight. "Yes, son. His temperature is dropping like a rock and yet he sweats as if its a hundred degrees in here. But, there is some good news. He shouldn't be alive right now and that is a mercy in and of itself. Adam, he is afflicted with hemlock poisoning."

A chill slithered up Adam's spine, raising the hairs on the back of his neck. "That can't be, Pa is always so careful about dangerous plants and herbs. Ever since I was a small boy on the wagon train, he taught me what could be used and what should be avoided at all costs. He has always been savvy that way. I don't understand this. Are you sure?"

"Do you really have to ask that question?"

"No, I guess not."

Paul laboriously pulled himself to his feet and squeezed the young man's shoulder as both men stared down at their loved one. "No one is perfect, Adam. Like I said, it is a good sign that he is still alive. Hemlock can kill within mere hours of exposure. Maybe this was an accident, pure and simple. "

"No...no, something else is going on here," Adam murmured, taking a seat on the bed's edge. "How long exactly does hemlock take to enter the bloodstream?"

"Anywhere between a half hour to two hours. What are you getting at?"

"Hemlock takes a very short amount of time to show poisoning symptoms yet Pa collapsed in a saloon, not while out raking hay or hunting in underbrush. Paul, the ride from The Ponderosa to Virginia City takes two hours or less, depending on the rider's speed, right?"

"Yes, a half hour longer for my buggy horse."

Bile rising in his throat, Adam began to pace, running his long fingers through his unruly mop. "Unless Pa dismounted at some point on the way to town and jumped straight into a hemlock patch...he's been deliberately poisoned."

Frozen to the floor, Paul stared at the young man whose face held grief and worry. But also there was a certainty, judging by the clenching jaw, squinted eyes and shallow breath. The doctor didn't want to believe the logic put before him but was it so implausible? In the end, he couldn't come up with a counterargument and that chilled him.

"Adam, I know your family has more than its fair share of enemies but hemlock poisoning is one of the cruelest forms of assassination in existence. If you're right and, god, I hope you're not...someone must hate Ben more than any living soul."

"Once Pa is..." Adam paused, his voice cracking. "Once he is in the clear, I'll start an investigation into this. I'll have the man who did this to my father if I have to question every bastard in Nevada!"

Silence fell as Adam deflated, his body slumping over onto one leg. He couldn't remember feeling so tired, not only from his trip but from the evil that seemed to have fallen upon the house. Exhaustion took hold of his muscles and his legs couldn't seem to hold his weight any longer. He sank down on the bed and took Ben's cold hand between his warm ones. Paul drew near behind him and spoke quietly.

"Adam, he won't wake up for quite some time. You should take a bath and see to your brothers. They're in the kitchen. I finally convinced them to eat something. You could stand some of Hop Sing's cooking too."

There was no way Adam was leaving his father's side. "I think I'll just sit here and wait for them to come back. Why don't you stretch your legs, Paul? You need it much more than I do."

Sighing, Paul squeezed his friend's shoulder and turned away, leaving father and son alone. As the doctor's footsteps faded down the hall, Adam let out the shaky breath he had been holding. Bone-tired, feeling like he'd tangled with a bear, he was a shell of who he was three hours earlier. How could he feel so optimistic this morning, riding through the desert, and how could his world have fallen apart by nightfall?

Moisture burned behind his eyes as he watched his father's chest rise and fall almost imperceptibly. The sight broke his heart. He remembered how many times he himself had woken up and found his father sitting beside him. Now the tables had turned and the change was miserable. Fears and doubts cascaded throughout him and, in the end, all he could do was pray. Boots echoed in the hallway, drawing closer and then paused outside the room. Without turning around, Adam knew his brothers had returned.

"Hey, Adam," Joe whispered, clasping his eldest brother's right shoulder.

"Glad to have ya back, brother," Hoss said wearily, covering Adam's left shoulder with a gentle hand. "Been ridin' hard. If you want some food, Hop Sing has a plate made up for you."

"Thanks. How did he know I was home?"

"Sport stuck his head through the kitchen window. I fed him and brushed his coat out."

Adam's mirthless chuckle rumbled into the quiet room. "I forgot the poor fellow. I'm sorry for not being here sooner. If I had known..."

"Don't worry about it. We're together now," Joe said, his grip tightening while his eyes stared at the bed. "Paul says that if Pa makes it through the night, he should be okay. He'll have a long road ahead but should make a full recovery."

"Then we wait."

With those last words from the eldest brother, the two youngest took seats next to the bed. The three waited and waited...and waited. By the time the sun rose above the horizon, they were slumped down, fast asleep. Joe was stretched out on the floor, Hoss was collapsed in an armchair and the bed supported Adam's head as he sat on the floor, his limp hand on his father's arm. Paul had returned to town hours before to tend to his other patients, though he promised to return as soon as possible.

Something woke Adam and he tried to blink but his eyes were crusted shut. Rubbing them, he sat up, grimacing when a pain shot up his back. He couldn't feel his left leg until the pins and needles started. A movement caught his eye and he felt a pressure on the side of his head. Only then did he realize that his father was awake and had reached out to touch his son's hair. Though Ben looked like death warmed over, his weak smile brightened the entire room.

"P...Pa? You're awake! How are you feeling?"

"Bad..." Ben croaked, his mouth dry as a bone, "How'd y...your trip...g...go?"

Adam pulled himself up to his knees and grasped the shaking hand. "Fine, the contract was completed on time and I brought in an extra several thousand dollars than we originally thought."

"G...good. Proud of you. Missed you."

"So glad to have you back, Pa," Adam sniffed, trying to hide the wetness ready to spill down his cheeks. "You're going to be okay now. You're going to be alright. Hoss, Joe, Pa's awake!"

Instantly, they roused and were at the bedside, chattering a mile a minute. Adam struggled to his feet and leaned against the doorframe, watching the scene. All the bleary-eyed father could do was smile. His drawn face beaming, he held Hoss and Joe's hands in turn, enjoying the attention and company. A joy had returned to the house and relief flooded Adam's heart, instantly replaced by a familiar rage.

After their father had drifted off, the brothers talked quietly and Adam filled them in on what Paul had said. He asked many questions about the day of the poisoning and narrowed down possible culprits. Joe explained that after their errands in town, Ben had suggested relaxing with a beer. Hoss said that their drinks had never been left alone, even for a second, and not a one suspicious person had approached them.

In the end, the brothers decided that either someone working for the saloon or someone standing at the bar had slipped the hemlock into the beer. A morbid thought entered Adam's mind but he didn't mention it. The thought was this: how could a random person have slipped poison into a drink and somehow that same drink just happened to reach his father's hand? The only answer was the saloon staff, who else?

Bidding his brothers to wait for the doctor to return, he told them that the chores needed doing. He pushed aside his fatigue and walked briskly to the stairs, his boot heels rapping sharply on the hardwood floor. He trotted down and toward the kitchen to let Hop Sing know his healing services were required upstairs.

Grabbing a piece of unbuttered toast, Adam continued outside to the barn. He fed the horses as fast as humanly possible and then made to ride to town. Leaving Sport to rest from the trip, he saddled Buck, feeling poetic justice would be served. When the assassin came face to face with the Cartwright anger, it seemed right to ride his father's beloved stallion to the showdown.

Kicking Buck into a gallop, Adam thundered out of the yard, adrenaline pumping through his veins. He passed Paul's buggy along the way but pushed onward, not bothering to wave. By the time Virginia City came into view, he had calmed himself down enough to think clearly. He pulled the buckskin to a slow trot as the twosome traversed down main street towards the Bucket of Blood.

Dismounting, he glanced around, his hand clenching the pearl handle of his Colt. The gun clung heavily against his thigh, begging to be used. Growling under his breath, he strode through the batwings, banging them with considerable force. Silence fell over the interior and all heads snapped up. He scanned the faces, glowering at each man in turn. Most glanced away while a few simply continued flirting with the one looked guilty, only curious or annoyed.

Seconds later, conversation renewed and everyone turned back to their drinks, card games and women. Adam hooked his thumbs into his gunbelt and leaned against the bar, continuing to observe. No one even glanced his way. Eventually, he felt a tap on his shoulder and his head whirled around. The bartender asked what he could get him but Adam just shrugged and ignored the man.

As he tried to decide what to do, Adam noticed Vicki watching him from the lap of an overweight cowboy. He raised a hand and twitched his index finger to summon her. She took a minute to excuse herself and circumvented groping hands on her way to the bar. Once there, she leaned next to Adam and reached up a hand to touch his cheek.

"You look terrible, sweetheart. Your father didn't die, did he?"

"No, he's alive but just barely. The doctor says he'll make a full recovery but it will take a long time. When I find who's responsible for this, I'll rip his head off and take what's left of him to the undertaker's!"

She retracted her hand and lowered her head. "How can I help?"

"I have a few questions about the day my family was in here and who else was in the saloon at the time of Pa's collapse. Can you tell me anything about that?"

She thought for a moment and leaned in, pressing her body closer. "I've been thinking a lot about that day since yesterday. And...I think I may have a name for you. But you have to promise you won't do anything rash. I couldn't stand to see you hanging limp from a rope."

"Is there somewhere we could talk in private?"

"If you don't mind what everyone will think of you, we could go to my hotel room and talk for as long as we like."

Adam stood straight and took her upper arm in his grasp. "Let's go."

On the walk across the street, Adam was preoccupied with how he would deal with Vicki's information. He knew that Roy should be brought along to investigate but a primal, feral urge screamed to take revenge. The image of his weak, exhausted father entered his mind and nausea tore through his stomach. Only when Vicki was unlocking her room did he return to the present.

"Come in and take a seat, Adam," she said, gesturing to a padded wooden chair by the bed. "I have a bottle of whiskey. Would you like a drink?"

"Sure, a small one."

Adam sank into the chair and leaned forward, his hands cradling his aching head. God, he had a terrible headache. He had never eaten the night before and only had a piece of toast this morning. His hunger was probably contributing to his fatigue. He sat up and sighed, passing a hand over his rough jaw. Grimacing, he decided to get a square meal and a shave before going to the sheriff's office. Roy would never trust his judgment if he looked like a runaway outlaw.

"Here, baby, drink this. You'll feel better," Vicki said sweetly, taking his hand and placing a shot glass in his fingers.

As the whiskey burned a fire trail down his throat, he lent a smile to the young woman. "Thank you, Vicki, you're something special, aren't you?"

"You have no idea. Anyway, you wanted to know who poisoned your father. Promise you won't bounce off the walls?"

"I won't cause trouble without the law there, you know me," Adam whispered, wondering why a drowsiness had swept over him. The room began to spin and his body began to feel detached from his head.

Vicki came around behind him and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Poor darlin', you're so tired. I'll tell you a little secret. **I poisoned him.** "

"W...what..." Adam struggled to stand but he couldn't move his limbs.

"Oh, now, now, calm down. Shhhh," she crooned, pressing her lips to his ear. "I've been waiting so long for you to put your guard down long enough. Cartwright, before this night is over, you'll know exactly what it feels like to be completely and absolutely helpless. I hate you more than any one of the men I have to open my legs for every night. Do you hear me? **I hate you**!"

Bile scorching his throat, Adam's vision tunneled into a black void, so ominous as to swallow him whole. When he awoke, a bed canopy was above him. He tried to sit up but found his legs and arms to be tied tight, presumably to the bedposts. Cloth filled his throat and he realized a gag had been stuffed into his mouth. Groggily, he craned his neck and could barely make out the blurred image of someone standing over him. Something struck his left cheek and then his right, sending pain up through his jaw as his head snapped back and forth. Twice more this happened until he was substantially more awake.

"It's about time you woke up. I was getting tired of waiting for the fun to begin."

Above him stood Vicki, clad in a blue saloon dress, the ruffled hem stopping at her knees. Her long, brown curls hung down to her waist and she looked deceptively innocent. However, the look of hatred on her beautiful face left little doubt that he was in trouble, big trouble in fact. She sat on the edge of the bed and reached out, massaging his chest.

"I've been waiting so long for this, I nearly gave up. But I'm glad I didn't. Dear heaven but you are **fine**. I don't think this shirt is needed, do you?"

In one move, she grabbed his collar and ripped his filthy red shirt open, sending buttons pinging in every direction. He jerked, straining against his bonds but despairingly felt no give. Her hands fanned out over his chest, massaging and tickling his ribs. He shivered as her dexterous fingers moved lower, pressing into his belly. Biting his lip, he wondered how he could ever have been so stupid, getting into this mess. How would he ever get out her clutches now? Why hadn't he seen this coming? If she would only take out the gag, he could try to sweet talk her into letting her guard down.

Vicki sat on the bed, caressing his jaw before wrenching his chin toward her. "If you do not know why you're here then you are far more of an idiot than I had originally thought."

He thrashed his head and mumbled through the gag, trying to ask why she was doing this. At first, he only felt anger and annoyance, wondering what her new game was all about. But when she withdrew a knife from her bodice, his blood ran cold and terror entered his eyes.

"Ooo, you don't like this beauty, do you?" she laughed, tossing her head. "Here's what's going to happen, big boy. First, to show how fair I am, I'm going to tell you all about my plan and why you're about to die. Then I'm going to ride you **senseless**. Then this knife is going to slice into that smooth neck of yours. Either that or I might want to plunge it hilt deep into your heart. Yes, delicious indeed! I may want to watch the life fade from your eyes as your blood drains away."

To his surprise, she removed the gag. "W...why are you doing this? We're friends."

"Only because I wished it to be so. Last year, I heard my father had passed so I came for the funeral. There I heard an Adam Cartwright had swindled him out of all his money and murdered him."

"But, I never did any such thing..."

With a snarl, she backhanded him and leapt at him, the knife pinching his neck. "Shutup! You killed him and you know it! Now, I'm going to finish and not a sound or I'll cut a perfect opening from your throat through your belly to where the sun doesn't shine! As I was saying, I took a saloon job, for the sole purpose of getting you alone. But, no matter how hard I tried, you wouldn't come to bed with me. You turned me into a whore!"

Adam's eyes darted from the angry girl to the door, praying someone would hear her rant. He was feeling more and more confused by the minute. Far from answering his questions, she was making less and less sense. He remembered there had been an elderly man killed by the name of Wesley, Phillip Wesley, the year before but he didn't know the circumstances. Perhaps Roy would know...

A sharp pain cut into his neck and he jerked his head back to see Vicki climbing on top of him, a dangerous glint in her eyes. She straddled his stomach and leaned down, the knife held below his left ear. He held his breath, not daring to speak. Her hair brushed his chest as she brought her lips down to hover over his. He tried to turn his head away but she followed him, claiming his mouth in a rough, sloppy kiss. Then she slid down his body, kissing along his sternum. The attention repulsed him and he told her to stop but she laughed.

"You're not ever going anywhere, darlin'. Might as well enjoy because you'll never enjoy a woman as good as me again...or any woman at all ever again once you're dead," she snickered, getting off the bed and standing over him.

Again, Adam looked to the door and considered calling out but there was slim chance anyone could find him before Vicki stabbed him into silence. No matter what torture she dished out, he would have to endure the humiliation. Maybe she would be too preoccupied to notice him loosening the ropes. As her fingers unbuckled his belt, he took a deep breath and pressed his head back into the bed. Closing his eyes, he thought of his family and resigned himself that no one was looking for him.

Suddenly, the door banged wide open and a large man flew into the room, his gun drawn. Everyone froze, staring at one another. A look of utter shock passed across the intruder's face as he stared at the scene. As if his eyes couldn't believe what they were seeing, he blinked and then once again.

Vicki was first to regain her wits.

With a bloodcurdling shriek, she grabbed the knife and raised it. Before the girl could plunge the blade into Adam's helpless body, his savior leaped forward and knocked the weapon from her hand. She was pulled from the bed and her arms pinned behind her back. Unsuccessfully, she kicked and screamed in his iron grip. Without ceremony, he pushed her into the closet and slammed the door. Propping a chair under the knob, he holstered his gun and hurried to the bed.

"Adam, you alright?"

Adam nodded shakily, more relieved than words could express. "Yeah, Hoss, I'm not hurt. Untie me, will ya?"

Hoss made fast work of the ropes and helped his brother sit up. Shrugging off the helping hand, Adam touched the deep cut on his neck and blood came away on his fingers. He shook his head, unable to think over the screams and crying which could be heard in the closet.

"How did you find me?"

"Heard ya tear out of the yard and left Joe to take care of Pa. I found Buck at The Bucket of Blood and was told you were last seen entering this hotel. It figures I found ya in this mess. Well? Spill it. How did that little gal get the better of ya?"

Self-consciously, Adam pulled his ripped shirt closer and felt his face warm. "Don't want to talk about it. Let's get her to Roy."

A low rumble started in Hoss' chest and turned into a guffaw. "Between you and Joe, I can't decide who is more pathetic. Come on."

A smile cracked on Adam's face, despite his exhaustion. Hoss opened the closet door and caught Vicki in his arms. She was pure crazy; kicking out, trying to bite and lashing out at Adam who stayed well out of range. After Hoss took Vicki out into the hall, Adam looked through the room. In a dresser, he found a small bottle with "Hemlock" handwritten on the side. He wrapped the offensive vessel in a handkerchief and followed his brother. Curious, alarmed stares followed the Cartwrights as they dragged the wild woman down the boardwalk.

Roy bolted to his feet when the trio entered his office. "What mess are you boys in now!"

"We're hoping you'll tell us," Adam said breathlessly, leaning against the desk as the jail cell banged shut.

Hoss reappeared, rubbing his arm. "That little wildcat is all yours, Roy. Good luck."

"Would you two tell me what the heck is going on and why you brought this woman here? This had better be good." Roy crossed his arms in preparation for a tall tale.

"Her name is Vicki from the Bucket of Blood. She blames me for her father's death. She's also the one who poisoned Pa," Adam said.

"What?!" Roy and Hoss exclaimed together.

He nodded. "In revenge against me. Roy, do you remember what happened to a man by the name of Phillip Wesley last year?"

"Yes, he was strangled by Aaron Courtwright, a cheap gambler. Why?"

"Wesley was Vicki's father. She thinks I killed him and tried to murder Pa to get back at me. After he was dead, she was going to kill me but I messed up her plans. Here is a bottle of hemlock I found in her hotel room. Believe me, there is a lot more evidence to be found there."

Roy blew out a long breath. "I admit, this story is better than most you come around with. I'll sort out this mess. You boys go home and see to your father."

"Thanks, Roy, you're a lifesaver."

"No problem, you both have been through enough today. How's your pa doing?"

"He's out of the woods."

"Good, good! Go home and get some rest. Give Ben my best and tell him I'll visit him again tomorrow."

During the ride home, the brothers stared straight ahead, not daring to look at one another. The eldest wanted to forget the last day and the younger wanted to forget the entire week. At length, Hoss ventured to ask the question on both their minds.

"Adam?"

"Yeah?"

"This is going to be embarrassing for you to explain. What do we tell Pa and...Joe?"

"Nothing. Pa's would-be assassin has been taken care of and that is all they need know. Understand?"

"Yeah, sure."

Neither confident in their plan, they rode onward to The Ponderosa. For the first time in far too long, they felt like life would be brighter. However, when they saw Joe standing in the yard, they looked at one another and cringed. If anyone would want a full explanation and wouldn't give up until he got it, Joe was the one. Putting a hand to his injured neck, Adam knew he was in for at least a few more hard days of ribbing and guilt trips. Oh, well, at least his father was on the mend and safe. Everything was going to be alright.


End file.
